England's Secret
by halfdragonbooknerd
Summary: England is female, but has been hiding this fact for centuries. She has fallen in love with France, but is afraid to tell him because of his reaction. France also loves England, but unsure how to show "him." After a night of drinking, France goes to England's house to confess his feelings. Craziness ensues. This is my first fan fiction.


**AN: Hi everyone! Thank you for checking out my story! This is the first one I have ever written, so I hope you guys like it! Please R&R.**

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><p>England POV:<p>

Today was a day just like any other day. I was sitting in a boring world meeting, trying my best to look engaged. This was difficult, as my chest was beginning to hurt from my binder and I could tell my potion was beginning to wear off from the burn in my throat. Luckily, I had brought more with me in a thermos, which all of the other countries (with a few exceptions, of course) believed simply contained tea. If they knew the true nature of the liquid, none of them would look at me the same way again. Because I, England, have a secret, one that has the potential to destroy me if it were to get out. You see, I am not entirely who I say I am. My real human name is not Arthur, but Alice, and I am actually a female.

Most countries and many of my bosses are completely ignorant to this fact. The royal family knows, but the majority of the past prime ministers have not. I just do not see the need to tell them. As for the countries that know, there are a select few. My fellow UK siblings, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Wales, and Scotland, as well as that little brat Sealand, all are aware of me being female. Norway and Romania also know; in fact, they helped me develop the system I use to disguise my voice as a male. These countries I told personally, or grew up with me, which is the reason they know my secret. Other countries discovered my true sex on accident. These nations include Canada, Japan, and even Hungry. Canada learned my secret because when he was still under my care, I did not realize he was in my room and started changing in front of him. That was certainly an interesting conversation. I was afraid that I had scared the poor lad for life, but he seems perfectly fine now. As for Japan, he once walked in on me soaking in the hot springs at his house, which was extremely awkward and embarrassing. Also, the potion that lowers my voice one octave had worn off, it being late at night, so there was no way that I could play off what he saw. However, he seemed to understand the situation and I knew he would keep my secret. Hungary, on the other hand, basically confronted me and told me she knew I was female. When I denied this fact vehemently, she reached out and yanked open my dress shirt, scattering buttons everywhere and revealing my binder under my clothes. I finally admitted the truth and we have been close friends ever since.

As for disguising myself, I do not use magic to reduce the size of my breasts. I used to, when I was an early teenager, because it was less of a hassle. In the later stages of puberty (back when I was a privateer), I stopped, finding it actually easier to simply bind my chest. When I became a mature woman and my privateering days ceased, I thought I would try the process once more. I thought it would be easier than having to mess with the customized corsets or tightly wrapped bandages. I could not have been more wrong. The application and termination of the spell were both excruciating. It was actually less painful to deal with the cracked ribs or soreness and discomfort that resulted from having to constantly wear my binders. I am just grateful that I have a smaller chest, and not something like Ukraine or even Hungary.

I keep my hair short in a typical messy male style. When I go out as myself, I wear a wig with long pigtails that reach almost to my hips. I find this to be the easier method, as it eliminates the possibility of mishaps from happening with a wig while playing Arthur. This is especially true with the amount of fights that France and I get into, which often lead to physical violence and hair pulling. If "Arthur's" hair was a wig, I would have been found out a long time ago. Sadly, there is not a single spell for creating the appearance of an Adam's apples, so I opt for other things in order to make myself look more masculine. For example, I never trim my eyebrows. They are like big, bushy caterpillars and they kind of disgust me, but no one suspects a female of having eyebrows that thick. My eyebrows, in combination with my messy hair, help to hide my more feminine facial features.

I use magic to deepen my voice one octave. This is much easier and more effective than trying to sound male on my own. When I was a child, I had no need to attempt to change my voice, but as I hit puberty, it became obvious that something would be needed as the other male "teenage" nations' voices began changing around me. At first, I attempted to use an incantation to change my tone. It worked almost instantaneously, but had absolutely horrible side effects. For example, when my voice began to change back, my throat would close up and I would have difficulty breathing. It also varied in the length of time that it actually worked and usually did not last for very long. The longer I used the incantation without a break, the more my throat would burn and it make me feel like I was sick, leaving me in almost constant pain and discomfort. It did not help that incantations, charms, and spell casting are not my area of expertise. The other nations also became somewhat curious on why I kept reciting Ancient Gaelic or Latin under my breath. This caused me to seek out an alternative method for lowering my voice to a more masculine range. My magic focuses more on potion creation, as well as the ability to see mythical and magical creatures. Thus, I sought out a potion that would help me to accomplish my task. I was unable to find a recipe for my dilemma and soon realized that I would have to create one myself using the classic method of trial and error. Finally, I was able to create something that kind of worked, but it took too long to take effect. I desperately needed advice on how to make it more potent and last for longer periods of time. This consequently led me to telling Norway and Romania, the other magic using nations, my secret and asking for their advice after making them swear that they would never tell another soul. Together, we eventually were able to create a potion that worked for several hours with minimal to no side effects. I could drink it in the morning and no other nations would know that my voice was truly an octave higher. I could also slip it into my tea at meetings and when around the other nations to ensure that the effects lasted through the entire time needed. It also had no negative side effects if it needed to be taken constantly for many days in a row.

I am just grateful that as female nations, we don't get periods (due to the fact that we can't get pregnant). Can you imagine trying to explain to the other nations why you, who they believe to be male, are bleeding from your nether regions? That would not turn out well at all. We do, however, seem to PMS for some strange and unknown reason. This happens only once a year and the severity of the episode depends on the individual nation. Usually, I just act extremely moody and refuse to go out unless I absolutely have to. I often will sit at home, watch romantic comedies or read a classic romance novel, and cry over a bowl of ice cream.

Sometimes, I just want to come as myself to a world meeting and scream to the world, "I am a female and I am not ashamed." While this fact is true, I am afraid of how the other countries would react to me lying to them for so long. In particular, I am worried about the reaction of a certain blond haired, blue eyed Frenchmen. I have been hopelessly in love with France for what seems like centuries now. We have an interesting relationship. We insult each other and fight; he flirts with me and I reject him. I push him away while the only thing I truly want to do is wrap my arms around him and accept his advances. One of the main reasons why I constantly fight with France is to push him away so that I can be alone with my treacherous emotions. I was in denial for so many years, but I have made my peace with my feelings. However, my fear of rejection prevents me from telling him the truth. I tell myself that I am content with pushing him away and admiring the "nation of love" from afar, but my heart knows this is a lie.

I am jarred from my thoughts by America waving his hand in front of my face and practically yelling in my ear, "Hello? Earth to England. Dude, are you there?"

I turn to my former charge, glaring daggers at his completely impolite gesture. "Of course I'm here, you bloody idiot! Where else would I be?"

The American responds with a shrug, "I don't know, dreamland?

I roll my eyes and ask him, "What do you want, America?"

"Dude, the meeting has been over for well over five minutes. Everybody else has already left."

"Well, thank you for informing me. I just wish you hadn't yelled in my ear to do so. I raised you as a gentleman, not the loud bumbling idiot that you seem to have become."

"Whatever, Iggy. See you at the next meeting, bro." With that, the American runs out laughing, knowing that I absolutely hated that nickname. Damn Japan for starting that horrible trend, even if it was an accident.

I shout after his retreating figure, "That's not my name, you imbecile! It's Arthur." Well actually, it's Alice… but I wasn't about to tell him that. That bloody git would never be able to keep my secret. The period when I was raising him was one of the hardest times of my life. The main reason that I didn't want him to call me big brother was because I, of course, am not male and thus should not be called "brother." I would rather be called Arthur, the persona I created for myself, then that. It pained my heart to lie to him, but it had to be done. I'm glad that he is so dense, because I don't want to think about the consequences otherwise. There was one almost mishap when he was really young, but he seems to have forgotten all about it. Thank God.

Anyway, I breathe a sigh of relief as I pack up my belongings and prepare to leave the building. Since the meeting was being held in Paris, France, I want to get out of there as quickly as possible to reduce my chances of having to talk to that handsomely infuriating Frenchman. I simply desire to return home to my flat in London, take off my binder, and enjoy a nice long bath with a steaming cup of Earl Gray Tea. However, luck seems to be against me as I heard that unique and somehow sexy laugh, "Honhonhonhon." I kept on walking while trying to avoid eye contact and hoped that he would not see me. However, I feel a hand wrap around my wrist as I am pulled back so that I facing him. "Angleterre, wait for a moment."

I pretend to be annoyed as I growl, "What do you want, Frog?"

"Since we are in Paris, the city of love, I thought I could extend my hospitality and give you a tour. Or if you want, we can do more than just that…" he responds, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

The combination of his flirtatious look and the suggestive nature of his words cause my heart rate to skyrocket and a flush to come over my entire face. I rip my wrist out of his grasp and shove him away from me, glaring at him as I lace my voice with acid. "Nothing would disgust me more. Now get away from me, you pervert." With that, I collect my bag and stomp away, not even looking back as I hail a cab and direct the driver to take me to the airport. In reality, it took all of my self control not to throw my arms around him and kiss him before accepting whatever he has to offer. I need to stay away from Francis as much as I possibly can. He always seems to play with my hormones and I know one day that he will cause my fall.

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><p>France POV:<p>

I stare hopelessly as watch England storm off. I just don't know what to do anymore. Angleterre, my dearest Angleterre, why must you hate me so? I love you, Arthur, I truly do. Why can't he see that? He doesn't understand the effect that he has on me. His constant rejection causes a pain deep within my heart. I am the nation of love, yet I am unable to voice my feelings to him in a way that he would be able to comprehend. It is so frustrating.

Those who really know me know that I am not as much of a pervert as I appear to be. When I spoke to him just now, I didn't really mean to add that last part. It just slipped out. I cannot deny that I would want to do that with England, but it was not my desire to come across that strongly.

I sigh as I tear my eyes away from the direction England went, and walk back to my flat. I unlock the door, set down my bag, and collapse onto my couch, completely drained. Why do I constantly allow myself to be hurt by him? I don't understand how England can behave this way. I am not entirely sure, but I believe that my feelings are not completely one-sided. There have been small hints over the years. The way he looks at me when he thinks I cannot see him, the blush that occurs when I catch him staring, and the way his breath hitches when we accidently touch, just to name a few. In fact, before he pushed me away earlier, I could feel his heart rate increase and easily see the way his cheeks reddened at the brief contact. Why do you keep denying your obvious feelings? Can you not tell that I feel the same way? Can we not put the past behind us?

I sigh, and get off the couch to grab a few bottles of wine. If I am going to be alone, I may as well drown my sorrows in alcohol. I grab a glass and return to the couch. As I down glass after glass of this fine elixir, I begin to feel more… free, if that is even the correct word. I start to feel less sorry for myself and begin to make a plan for how to win England's love. I form more and more elaborate plans, before scrapping them because of how ridiculous they are. They are not direct enough to get Arthur's attention. He seems to be completely unconscious to my roundabout advances. As I continue to drink, I seem to become more confident. Why don't I just tell him how I feel? I could just go over to his house and tell him. Why not? With a quick glance at the scattered bottles, I grab my keys and leave to pronounce my love to my Angleterre.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for taking the time to read this story! This first chapter was mostly exposition, but things will happen in the next one, I swear! I apologize if anyone was OOC. I hope to have the next chapter up very soon! In the meantime, tell me how you liked it! Also, does anyone want to know about the situation England was talking about that occurred when she was raising America? Tell me in the comments! Just so you guys know, I thought of the idea for this story while reading "Hot Springs" by NightWolfMoon, which features Fem!America and Japan. If you haven't read it, I would highly recommend it. <strong>

**Anglterre (French): England**


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